My Other Mother

It takes a village. Growing up in Phillips Texas I was fortunate to be lovingly guided by my friends’ parents. Marjo’s mother, Lilburn Hettick, had the strongest influence of all. Last weekend I reread her 328-page memoir, titled simply Lilburn, its hard cover bound in “Lilburn blue.” Though it was published after her death, she had had her niece inscribe book plates for all who had ordered it. My copy says “For Martha, my other daughter, Lilburn Hettick.” The book crackles with the zest she had for life.

Lilburn Shoffner DeMoss Hettick was born November 6, 1915 in Colfax, Louisiana and died October 4, 1983 in Bartlesville, Oklahoma. Her scant 67 years were packed with adventure. Lilburn made homemaking seem an exciting career. With two degrees in Home Economics from Oklahoma A & M, she was an expert cook, seamstress, and designer. Wherever her engineer husband Riley got transferred by the Phillips Petroleum Company–tiny towns in Texas, Mexico City, and finally company headquarters in Bartlesville, Oklahoma–she created beautiful homes and made many friends. Few could resist her sharp mind and friendly smile.

Marjo and I were both born in the Phillips hospital in 1944; she in January, I, in March. We met in Mrs. Lister’s first grade classroom, soon after the Hetticks returned to Phillips from Mexico City. They had lived there for four years while Marjo’s father, Riley, on loan from Phillips, helped Pemex learn to operate a newly-built refinery. When she invited me over to play, she proudly showed me her new Ivers and Pond piano. Before long Marjo began piano lessons with my mother.

Tall and slender, Lilburn designed and sewed all her own clothes, often employing elements of the Mexican costumes she had studied for her Masters thesis. No one in Phillips dressed with such subtle elegance. My brother Harry told her that he thought she had a “sexy-looking figure in a Katherine Hepburn sort of way,” a compliment she cherished.

My mother had many wonderful qualities, but homemaking was not her forte. It was Lilburn, my other mother, who showed me how to make pork chops tasty, sew on buttons securely, mitre bedsheets crisply, and keep a house neat. When I spent the night, she always inspected our teeth to make sure we had brushed them properly.

She also knew how to carve out time for herself. While she slept late every Saturday, Riley took us to breakfast at the Hotel Borger. He never talked much about his work at “the plant,” his photography hobby, or how he played the stock market. He simply asked about what we were doing, encouraged us in math, and listened intently. That made us feel very special. I learned respect for engineers. Later I married one.

Always curious and eager to learn, Lilburn collected some seashells on vacation intending to use them in a craft project for our Girl Scout troop. Her fascination in identifying them gradually became a remarkable career in conchology. She began to plan another trip to the Gulf Coast. Later expeditions took her to the Atlantic and Mediterranean, and finally, to the South Pacific. She identified several new species. Although she distributed significant specimen shells to Harvard, Stanford, and the Smithsonian Institution, at her death her carefully labeled shell collection and library were donated to Oklahoma State University. Is it any wonder that I display Florida shells in my living room?

When Marjo and I were ten, my mother took us by train to a week-long Frances Clark piano workshop in Denver, Colorado. As the only 10-year-olds present, we served as guinea pigs for new teaching techniques. What fun we had living in a dorm at the University of Denver, riding city buses, eating Western omelets, and touring the U.S. Mint! Even now I inspect dimes for a tiny “D” for Denver–just found one today!

The next year, 1955, Lilburn invited me to go with her and Marjo to visit family in Louisiana. We boarded a passenger train in Amarillo early on the morning of Saturday June 4 that took us to Houston in 13 hours. I loved my first dinner in a dining car! Upon arrival Lilburn rented a car (a rental car was another first for me!) and drove us to the home of her friend, Mrs. Engeman, on Bissonnet Street. My brother Joel was working in Houston that summer and walked over from his Rice dorm to meet us and take us to Sunday School the next morning.

On Monday morning Lilburn drove us to Galveston. While she searched for shells, Marjo and I swam and invented beach games. Lilburn made sure we didn’t get sunburned. In a nice restaurant I ordered Gulf shrimp and she taught me how to cut a thick-sliced tomato with the side edge of my fork.

On Tuesday June 7, we took a train from Houston to Baton Rouge and were met by Lilburn’s mother, “Momeo,” and her younger sister, Jack, who lived next door with her husband John Ed. The Youngers had five children ranging in age from one to twelve. Peggy, the oldest, welcomed us warmly. In my diary I wrote: “I was surprised at how green Louisiana was, sorta enchanted.”

After a day of relaxing we joined the Port Allen Baptist Vacation Bible School already in progress and “did four days work in one,” finishing the next day. Our teacher was from either Brooklyn or New Orleans and pronounced “birds” as “boids.” We stopped at a Dairy Queen that had two water fountains–one not labeled and the other labeled “colored.” Seeing the long line for the “white” water fountain after we finished our ice cream, Marjo wondered why we had to wait when one fountain was unused. Back home, Momeo, a devoted gardener active in the Garden Club of America, showed us her collection of hemerocallis (daylilies). I never knew there were so many varieties, but I admired them from then on. So much to learn that summer!

The next week we were off to New Orleans to visit Lilburn’s older sister Sarah Margaret, see Lake Pontchartrain, and shop at the International Trade Mart, where I bought two commemorative spoons. Then of course, Lilburn took a day to look for shells, while we swam. When we returned to Momeo’s, I received a letter from my brother Harry. For graduating from Phillips High School he had received a new Royal typewriter. It had a double ribbon that allowed switching from black to red. How I wish I still had that letter, all typed in black except for red letters outlining the shape of Louisiana. With Joel in Houston that summer and me away for three weeks, Harry must have been a little lonely, but so creative. Even Momeo was impressed!

During the third week we drove north to visit friends in Alexandria, where Lilburn had grown up. My view:  “they were all strangers to me, but one had a lovely home.” Two valuable lessons I learned from Lilburn have brought me much pleasure: keeping up with old friends and reaching out to people confined to their homes. I practiced the latter skill in Arlington and have used it several times during the great pandemic of 2020.

Another day, we drove to Baton Rouge. According to my diary, I preferred walking in Momeo’s woods and watching the fireflies each night to touring the State Capitol. But I enjoyed buying presents for everyone in the city and wrapping them for the farewell party. Then we took an overnight train trip back to Amarillo. On Sunday, June 26, I wrote: “I’m HOME, goody, goody.” I had missed my father’s 53rd birthday on the 12th and Father’s Day on the 19th, so I was especially glad to see him!

Marjo and her family moved to Bartlesville in 1960. Before he left, Riley helped me choose components and set up a stereo system. Then I began collecting and listening to records. I visited the Hetticks in Bartlesville, summer 1961, and saw more fireflies–Lilburn referred to fireflies in every letter thereafter. In fall 1962 Marjo started college at Oklahoma State, formerly A & M, the same school where her parents got their masters in 1938 and where my father attended 1919-21 before transferring to Texas A & M. Marjo visited me at Rice in the spring we were both seniors. Both Lilburn and Marjo came to our wedding in Borger, June 11, 1966.

The next time I saw Lilburn and Riley was in Washington DC in the fall of 1970. Steve and I were living in Georgetown. For three weeks, they rented a room in a hotel at 28th and “M” Streets, not far from where we lived.  From there they could easily catch a bus to the Mall. The Smithsonian museums kept them occupied for many days. They took us on a cruise down the Potomac River to Mount Vernon. Congress was debating the Clean Air Act, so I quizzed Riley on what the Phillips Petroleum Company was doing about pollutants. Unfortunately, I had only read about pollutants, never talked about them. I pronounced the word POLL-u-tants and at first he didn’t understand my questions.

We lent them our 1965 Chevy Impala, whenever they needed a car. Steve was busy working at the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, so he did not accompany us on a trip to Gettysburg. True to her adventurous spirit, Lilburn treated me to a helicopter ride over the battlefield. She taught me to seize the day!

In the spring of 1974, I took Lilli and 4-month-old David on a trip to Lewisville and Odessa to see their grandparents and then on to Bartlesville. I just had to see the Hetticks again and introduce them to my children. In the absence of a stroller, we put David in a laundry cart and wheeled him around their neighborhood. Good way to put him to sleep.

Come summer of 1975, I took Lilli and David to visit Marjo’s family in Pittsfield, Massachusetts. In August 1978 Marjo and her family visited us in Arlington. I took them to see Mount Vernon, just as her parents had taken me. Here are Marjo and Keith with Colin, Lilli, and David, with baby Kevin in the stroller. Two-month-old Shelby was in my snuggly.

 

In the late 1970s Riley had a series of strokes; the last one, in Spain, quite severe. He died February 29, 1980. In April Lilburn came to see us in Arlington. Mrs. Kim was our live-in housekeeper that year, as we prepared for surgeries scheduled to correct Shelby’s hip displasia. She cooked a fabulous Korean dinner for us, but woke up in great pain the next morning. While I took Mrs. Kim to the hospital, Lilburn took Lilli and David to the National Zoo in DC. They reported seeing the new pandas from China sitting in the sun, eating bamboo. Once more, Lilburn showed how adept she was at turning circumstances to her advantage and including others in her fun.

Actually, Arlington was just her first stop before embarking on a spring trip to Egypt and Israel. Many of the landmarks she reported seeing there were the same ones Marjo and I saw in our Near East Discoveries trip in January 2018. She stayed in the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor, just as we did, and crossed the Nile on a felucca. On the way home she visited Harry in New York City, then wrote me a lovely letter, asking about Shelby’s surgeries:

Re-reading my log book of my visit, I’m amazed at how much time I had with each of your children. Lilli is a delightful little girl, growing fast…David has a well-organized mind and  is so smart…Shelby is loving and open-hearted. I loved them all. But best I love you, because I loved you first. Steve is a dear in his own right, but doubly so because he also loves and cherishes you. I think y’all are one nice family.

Lilburn’s appetite for travel continued unabated in 1980, as she records in her memoir:

My 65th birthday, November 6, fell in the crack when I crossed the international dateline en route to China. Luckily, I’d had three birthday celebrations before I left home. The People’s Republic had only opened their doors to visitors and tourists in 1979. The number of visas issued was limited, as were their accommodations. We were housed in the new wing of the Peking Hotel that was reported to be the best in the country. It was; it had heat. When I saw the panda bear in the zoo, he looked as tired as I felt from jet lag. I was glad I’d seen the one in Washington happily eating bamboo as one expected.

At some sites Lilburn’s group was a curiosity to people who had never seen foreigners before. Nevertheless, she climbed the Great Wall, visited Xian, Shanghai, and Canton and sailed the Yangtse River. She continued alone to Hong Kong, Macao, Singapore, and Bali. Many guides marveled that she was having so much fun traveling by herself. Another lesson: I’ve never been afraid to travel alone.

The next time I saw Lilburn was the summer of 1981 when Marjo invited me and my kids to visit her in Dayton over the Fourth of July. Afterward Lilburn described the scene in a letter to my mother, later sent me:

Dear Patti, What with Lilli 10, Colin 9, David 7, Kevin 5, and Shelby 3, I expected a mad house. Well, it has been a grand and glorious experience for each and every one of us. The young mothers took the kids to the Air Force Museum. David came back with a gyroscope and I helped him learn to work it. Lilli worked on a latch hook set bought earlier. ….all this was to the accompaniment of Marjo and Martha at the piano, playing duets, giggling and talking in the same old way. It really grabbed me to see things come full circle. And we are all still friends. Keith entertained the kids with his new Apple II home computer with its games and lessons. Shelby took part in everything and is one happy child. I treated everyone to the movie “The Muppet Capers,” and Martha treated us to a pizza supper. Finally, three of us played “Chopsticks” on the piano.

The last time I saw Lilburn was in July 1983 when she was too weak to travel much. I left the kids with my mother at the Lewisville farm, flew to Tulsa, and rented a car, just as she would have done. She was glad to see me and gave me some pictures of Mexican costumes that she had had since graduate school. I didn’t stay long, but told her I loved her. I’ll let her have the last words:

Christopher Morley wrote, “There is only one success–to be able to spend your life in your own way.” According to that definition, my life has been a success. My most satisfying achievements have been Marjo and my contributions to the science of conchology. In looking back over where I’ve been, I’ve checked off quite a list for one lifetime.